Brave, O brave, my lover true, he’s worth a maiden’s love:
(And the sea below is still as deep as the sky is high above!)
Deftly my love can hook ling and conger,
The grey-fish and hake, with the net and the creel, O;
Far from our island be plague and be hunger;
And sweet our last sleep in the quiet of the Kiel, O.
Brave, O brave, my lover true, he’s worth a maiden’s love:
(And the sea below is still as deep as the sky is high above!)
Pull on the rope, men, pull it up steadily:
(There’s a storm on the deep, see the scart claps his wings, O);